


Finding Rosy

by EmeraldEyes8917



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: British Government, Crime, Definitely inspired by Spooks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Secret Agent, Self Harm, Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2020-01-06 22:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18397721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldEyes8917/pseuds/EmeraldEyes8917
Summary: When 'Anthea', the close aide of Mr. Mycroft Holmes, goes on a dawn raid in the field to a known drug trafficker and common criminal, she will have an encounter with a person who will turn the investigation and her world upside down.





	1. Chapter 1

Dawn raids. She hated them with a passion.

"Is there such thing as a morning person?" she muses over a styrofoam cup of strong coffee held firmly in both hands to keep it from spilling over as the tactical unit's van goes over several potholes.

"Join our club, we have coffee and stickers," says Dean, his eyes carrying a teasing glint as well as a lingering hint of tiredness.

Raids of this nature were never looked forward to, even if they were pivotal to progressing an investigation. 

"This was concocted by a group of morning people in suits behind desks," Dean grunts to himself.

"I work behind a desk most days of the week, just so you know."

She gives Dean a friendly nudge as the van trundles along to the block of tenement flats where their latest target was said to reside when laying low.

She checks her weapon out of habit, breathing in the smell of masculine body odour, leather, and damp.

She directs this next statement to the man in the passenger seat, "We are certain that he will not be there."

The senior agent speaks over the din of the engine, "Ninety nine point nine per cent certain." 

The driver responds in kind, "That's as good as we'll get. His current girlfriend's name is on the lease. The landlord was very forthcoming with my request for access."

"Did you flash your badge or your gun, Andrew?"

The agent in question flashes her a charming smile in the rearview mirror. "Which would you prefer, ma'am?"

The banter flows easily, and eases any lingering nerves or tension. There was no ego to be found today, and especially not of the sexist or demeaning kind.

The van pulls up in the courtyard, and they all file out quietly.

Speaking in a low whisper, she directs to each man present, "Radio silence from now on. We touch base once the flat is searched and cleared. Understood?"

A round of nods.

"Alright... let's move..."

 

Climbing the stars to the topmost balcony of the tenement, they move into position with much practiced stealth, not meeting any other residents at this hour. Hopefully the element of surprise would be on their side today. Anthea stands with her back against the wall on one side of the door, Dean on the other side, both with guns in hand. Dean reaches out and knocks on the door several times, then waits for at least thirty seconds. He bangs on the door with his fist. Still no answer. One more decisive knocking motion before he shakes his head. She glances around at the agents and nods. The battering ram is taken out of the duffel bag and moved into position. Loathe as she was to break down a private citizen's door, this was their only solid lead and needs must in this situation. On her nod, the door splinters open with ease of the battering ram wielded in expert hands. "Armed agents!"

Her ears are ringing as she steps in, but she manages to call out, "Alison Harris, this is MI5! Come out quietly. We mean you no harm."

The agents move through the flat, checking each of the rooms. She opens a door and after flicking on a light switch, finds herself in a child's bedroom, fitted out with pink decorations, fluffy toys and a pink bedspread.

She lets out an unladylike curse. 

Her question is loud and carrying, "Did his file say anything about a child?"

"We were researching his past transgressions, not looking at family ties. They were irrelevant." 

One of the younger agents speaks up, sounding a tad more arrogant than his fellow agents.

"Perhaps this detail would not have gone amiss and we may have frightened both a woman and her child. Have you thought about that?"

There is no answer given. "That's what I thought."

She leaves the door ajar and follows on with checking the rest of the rooms, the word 'Clear!' being shouted every minute.

Dean meets her by the kitchen, and she looks around the sparsely furnished room, saying quietly, "His paraphernalia may be stashed in the main bedroom. We'll conduct a proper search once the forensics team get here."

"You think he would bring drugs around a child?" Dean asks the question, though it patently is sickening to him.

"Possibly. This is a safe refuge for him. He might depend on Alison to stash his evidence. We'll need to..."

A loud noise from the corridor that makes both their heads turn. "This door is locked. There's no sign of the woman or of the target. Place is completely empty."

Their conversation halted, they join the rest of the team, huddling by the door at the end of the hall.

"It's the bathroom. I've tried the handle and forced the door, there's no response from inside."

She bangs on the door with her fist. "Alison Harris! Open up, this is MI5. We want to ask you about your connection to Troy Williams."

When there is no reply, she bangs again with her fist. "Alison, open the door or we will break it down."

Silence. She checks above the door and around the hall for a key. 

"I think she's locked herself in. Break it down."

The battering ram is retrieved and the agents move into position, ready to swing. "Alison! Last warning before we break this door down."

Silence.

"Do it."

The door is broken down and the tableau is shocking and gruesome.

"Oh, God... no."

"Get an ambulance, now!"

The woman is lying in the bath, half submerged, face pale and her wrists covered in blood.

She backs out and allows the agents with medical training to assess her, and paces back past the child's bedroom, taking a moment to steady herself after witnessing such a shocking sight. 

A blink, and a detail from the first sweep returns in her mind's eye. 

There was a pink teddy bear lying by the bed when she checked this room first. An errant detail at first glance.

Now it was gone. 

She slows her breathing and steps over the threshold once more, taking care to be very quiet.

The child was here, most likely terrified at all the loud noises and the number of people in the flat. 

An instinct that is all too familiar when it comes to children rears its head and does not quite roar through her veins, but makes itself known in her chest.

After holstering her gun, she surveys all around the small room, placing herself in the mind of a little girl. 

Where would a child hide when a group of strange people broke down the front door?

She crosses to the wardrobe, and very carefully opens the doors, looking in among the coat hangers and shoes, reaching into the back of the wardrobe, not hoping to find Narnia or Mr. Tumnus, but a little girl who was playing hide and seek.

Turning very carefully, she looks to the bed, the realisation clicking into place.

She had to tread lightly, for she had no idea what this girl had witnessed, whether she knew what happened to her mother, or even her father. 

All of the procedure and protocol would have to come much later.

She kneels down by the bedside locker, turning on the lampshade, which throws an array of animal shaped shadows on the opposite wall, and leaning down on all fours, she looks under the bed after lifting the duvet up.

In the gloom, she makes out a pair of dark eyes, a pink and white romper suit, and the same pink bear from before. The girl lies on her side and stares out at Anthea, not moving a muscle. 

They share a long look before she breaks the silence with a gentle greeting.

"Hi."


	2. A Place Called Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finding the young girl hiding under her bed, Anthea pieces together her sad history and what may have become of her father, learning how to bond and how to protect a vulnerable innocent while tracking down the dangerous criminal.

The moment stretches on. 

She does not make a move to take hold of the girl, or even convince her to come out from under the bed. 

The girl does not make any reply either, nor does she shrink back further into a safe refuge.

"Now this is a very good place to hide. You are nice and safe there. Are you alright?"

No answer.

"Okay. Now honey, I know your mum may have told you not to talk to strangers, and she is quite right, because strangers can be... well, strange."

The girl makes a snuffle, as if in a laugh. "Mummy's always right."

"So is mine. You must always listen to your mum."

A gentle pause

"Is that your bear?"

"Yes."

"What's his name?"

"Cheer Bear. It's a Care Bear." 

A small flash of recognition. She thought she recognised the rainbow design on the belly.

"I had a ragdoll called Holly Hobby when I was small. She was my very best friend and came everywhere with me."

"I like dolls."

"So do I."

A small pause.

She very gently asks, "What's your name, honey?"

"Rosy."

"Hello, Rosy. I'm Anthea. How old are you, Rosy?"

"Four and a half."

"Why, you're almost a young lady."

Rosy shuffles forward into the light. "I want to be pretty like my mummy when I am grown up."

"Oh, I'm sure you will be." 

She swiftly changes tack once she sees her being less nervous or afraid of her, "Rosy... we're trying to figure out what's happened here, honey. We're sorry if we frightened you with the door breaking down."

"It was scary. It was like when Daddy makes loud noises sometimes too."

"Does he, really?" She pushes down any lingering sickened feeling, keeping an airy tone of voice. 

"Mummy is afraid too. She tells me to hide when Daddy starts shouting. I hide under the bed with Cheer Bear and wait until mummy comes to find me."

What this child could have witnessed, she had no idea at this point. This could all be uncovered in time, once they proceeded delicately.

"Rosy, has your dad been home recently?"

She blinks her large brown eyes, looking the image of her mother momentarily as she shuts her eyes, "I don't know." 

She hugs her bear and sniffs.

"That's okay. Do you want to come out?"

Another small shuffle and Rosy comes out from beneath the bed, sitting in front of Anthea, sucking her thumb. 

Her hair hangs long, and she keeps a hold on the pink teddy bear. 

"There we are. Those are very nice pajamas."

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Andrew standing in the hall. 

She puts a finger to her lips and motions for him to stay where he is, not wanting to scare Rosy and undo this amount of progress.

Her first thought was to ask Rosy more questions, to see if she could tell her what had happened, but she knew that this flat would soon be a crime scene with investigators cordoning it off, and the commotion would more than likely frighten her into silence once more.

"Rosy... we are trying to find out what happened with your dad. And... your mum has had an accident."

Rosy nods slowly, "She locked the door. I didn't find the key. I was scared, and so was Cheer Bear. I wanted toast, and Mummy makes the toast, but she didn't open the door."

There are tears in her eyes now. 

"I know, honey. Listen... would it be okay if you come with me? Just to a place that's safer. The front door is broken and we want you to be safe."

Rosy hides her face behind her bear, whimpering.

"I want my mummy." 

Her heart pulls at the sound of her voice.

"I know, Rosy. We have very good doctors who will take care of her. We want to take care of you too. So will you come with me? I promise that once your mummy's feeling a bit better, you will be able to see her. Okay?"

She nods, sucking her thumb again.

"Good. Okay, let's get a few things together..."

This was not part of the field mission she had been assigned, but she was not going to leave this child behind. If anyone questioned her motive, she could cite her being a possible witness to her father's criminal activities and the only witness fully conscious at the moment.

Finding a purple backpack in the wardrobe, she begins to pack some clothes, shoes, shocks, a hairbrush, and after some input from Rosy, a colouring book, crayons, three picture books, and a fluffy rabbit called Bunny Gruff.

"Now let's get you bundled up, honey. It will be a cold morning. Does your mummy take you to the park?" 

She keeps up a gentle conversation all the while, nodding at the answers and smiling at Rosy, feeling that bit encouraged when Rosy smiles back at her. The magenta jacket and white hat with bobbles are put on with little fuss, the girl only watching her silently. 

"Now isn't that smart? You'll be nice and cosy now."

"I like pink."

"Pink is my favourite colour, too."

In between the packing and dressing Rosy, there is a brief conversation with the agents, discussing what was to be done with Rosy once they were back in the main office. The paramedics were two minutes away, and Alison's pulse was thready at best.

"I want this to be treated as priority while we still have a trail of evidence to find." 

"This is an investigation, not a bloody creche." 

The agent who had scorned previously at checking Williams' background speaks up now.

She does not shout, or curse, or rant, she only states her reasoning in a calm manner, "If you could keep your voice down. This child may be our only witness until Alison recovers. Do you really want to leave her in this hovel with a broken front door?"

A pause as she takes in a deep breath, her vision having darkened for a moment, "Now I will arrange for a child psychologist to assess and interview Rosy and find out what, if anything, she might be able to tell us. Children can see many things and hear a great deal in this home environment, particularly when her father is home, and she sounds like a bright child when she is not frightened half to death, so I say that we are to take care of this girl as if she were the most important witness, because that is what she is."

Just as she is turning to go back into Rosy, the agent mutters, "Someone's having their time of the month..."

'Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.'

Somehow, it is Sherlock Holmes' voice intoning this smoothly in her mind as she swiftly pins Andrews against the wall, her forearm against his throat. 

"What's that? Did you say something, Agent?"

His reply is a choked gargle.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

She holds her arm there for several seconds, before stepping back and letting him slide down to the floor, massaging his throat with a wounded look. 

She gathers her braid over one shoulder, giving a firm nod, before returning to Rosy's bedroom. The rest of the team look on, neither judgmental or concerned.

"That... that bitch nearly choked me..."

The senior agent shoots him a warning look, "Careful now. You just learned what respect means, son. Don't you forget it, either."

Dean looks up at the ceiling to hide his smile.

She kneels in front of Rosy, gently putting her hands on her shoulders. "Okay, I think we are ready to go. You are okay to come with me?"

Rosy nods, sniffling but she does not move away from her or back under the bed.

"Good girl. Now I'm going to lift you up, and we will go out to the car. If you feel at all scared, just close your eyes tight and hold onto Cheer Bear. Okay?"

She slings the backpack onto her shoulder and Rosy raises her arms, "Up, up." 

She smiles and lifts Rosy into her arms, resting her on her hip. 

"Hold on tight to Cheer Bear and me. Off we go now."

Stepping out of Rosy's room, she does not meet anyone's eyes, only focusing on carrying Rosy away from the chaos, one hand behind her head. She only manages a glance at the bathroom door, sending a prayer to God that Alison would live, and not just for procedural reasons. 

She feels Rosy clutch her hands in her jacket, and quietly soothes her, time appearing to slow down as she carries Rosy out of her home. 

The only person she acknowledges is Dean, who touches her shoulder as she passes by.

"You know she's your responsibility now. None of these proud men would have even bothered with her."

"Thank goodness I was here, then. We should have checked the file in the first place for minor family members. I don't want social services having a reason to hound us, but she needs to be safe. I'll see you back in the office."

The cool morning air causes her breath to mist slightly, and as the ambulance arrives with lights flashing, its siren silenced. 

The black Bentley pulls up moments later, and the driver opens the back door. She whispers to Rosy that she was putting her in and sits her down on the back seat and gets in beside her.

"Now I'll just do up your seat belt."

Rosy sits quiet and obedient. She directs the driver to the government office.

As the city passes by in a gentle blur, morning having broken and London now waking itself up, she gazes out the window and back at Rosy who looks ahead in front of her, blinking sleepily.

The poor lamb had a rough start to her morning and it was not going to get easier.

"Is my mummy going to die?"

The question is so direct coming from such a young child that it almost startles her. 

She chooses a realistic yet positive approach, "We will do all we can to help her, and the doctors too."

"Is my daddy in trouble?"

Anthea chooses not to lie. "Yes, honey. We are looking for him because he has done some bad things."

Rosy does not react visibly.

"But you are not in any trouble, Rosy. You can help us, but only if you want to."

"Can I help my mummy too?" 

"Of course you can. You're a good and brave girl, and it is going to be fine."

Rosy looks at her with soulful brown eyes. "I'm still scared."

"It's okay to be scared. I was this morning before I came to your home."

Which was partly true: she was always nervous when going out on missions in the field, having just recently been trained for these kind of assignments. Even escorting unsuspecting people in Bentley cars could be nervewracking if they posed a serious threat.

"I thought grown ups weren't afraid of anything."

She chuckles. "Even grown ups get scared, but we can be very brave too."

This earns another smile. 

They arrive at the office entrance, and she takes Rosy's hand as they walk through the double doors. The crowds of people all arriving at work cause Rosy to look around with wide eyes, and she keeps a firm but gentle hold on her hand.

When she stops to speak with a colleague outlining the next steps to be taken in the investigation, she feels Rosy hugging her leg and moving behind her. 

She pauses in her conversation to bend down and murmur quietly to Rosy in a comforting way.

Hopefully she had done the right thing in bringing Rosy here.

This was only the beginning of a long investigation, and nothing was going to take her from Rosy's side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An allusion to Sherlock Holmes in this chapter, always a treat!
> 
> To anyone wondering about this version of Anthea: I have imbued her with a lot of empathy and protectiveness over young children, simply because in the Twitter RP I wrote years ago, two of my friends RPd as Greg and Molly, having two young daughters, as well as an OC having three children as well.
> 
> As well as being a protector of the common good, I think she would have a protective streak over those most vulnerable, as well as being one to take no crap from anyone.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has read this story, it does mean a lot to share something from my fandom past that I was quite proud of.
> 
> More to come soon. Comments and concrit always welcome. :)


	3. The Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spending time with Rosy in her office while the investigation continues, Anthea feels herself becoming bonded with the young girl.

This would never have happened four years ago.

While she did take care of her cousin's daughter, and liked children a great deal, her work would have taken precedent over all else.  When she received the message that the psychologist would be at least an hour, this did not phase her.

She did not hesitate in letting the team and agents know that she would take care of Rosy until the interview.  There had been enough contact with strangers today for this young girl.

The first thing she did was ask Rosy if she wanted some breakfast, given all of the excitement and upheaval from this morning, and she took her to the canteen, letting her choose whatever she wanted.

Carrying the tray containing a bowl of Coco Pops, a strawberry Petit Filous, a glass of apple juice, a croissant, a bagel, an apple, and a cup of coffee, they sit and eat in a quiet corner of the canteen.

She smiles as Rosy feeds Cheer Bear some cereal, talking happily as she drank the chocolate milk.  When the yoghurt smears messily around her mouth, Anthea patiently cleans her mouth with a napkin, poor Rosy scrunching her nose up at the cleaning.

She breaks the croissant in half and gives Rosy the bigger piece.  The coffee perks her up right away, and she keeps an eye on her phone for any updates about Alison and the investigation at the flat.

Once they had finished up with breakfast, she leans forward and with a twinkle in her eyes asks, "Would you like to see my office?"

"Yes, please."  Rosy says this politely, and she smiles at her good manners.

She does not look to either side of her as she walks through the main offices, holding Rosy's hand gently, nodding politely to fellow aides and a few older heads of departments, bringing her over to the lift, raising her up so she can push the button for her floor, and carrying her after they exit the lift.

Upon entering her office, she begins telling Rosy and showing her around the room, "This is where I work.  Here's the cabinet with all the important files.  This is my desk, with my phone and computer.  And this is my chair..."

She sits Rosy in it, whose legs dangle a long way off the floor.

"Now, you can be my assistant, Miss Rosy."

Rosy smiles, and she is relieved that the child is becoming more comfortable with her.

"I'm just going to get changed.  You and Cheer Bear mind the desk for me.  Would you like to draw or colour in your book?"

"Yes, please."

She brings out some blank copy paper, along with the colouring book and crayons she had packed in the flat, and Bunny Gruff in case she wanted her other friend as well.

Rosy sets about drawing and colouring in the book, talking away to herself as she goes into the ensuite bathroom and shuts the door behind her. 

Her pinstripe dress-suit hangs on the back of the ensuite door and she rinses her face with cold water.

Glancing at herself in the mirror, there are faint dark circles beneath her eyes given the hectic events of the morning.

_'You need a rest, lady... but later...' focus on this child and helping her mother.  You can rest when you're done...'_

After that impromptu self-coaching speech, she returns to the office a few minutes later, "You're okay, Rosy?"

Her calls had been held for today, so there would be no opportunity for Rosy to speak to a harried official today, thankfully.

"Yes.  Your dress is pretty."

She smiles. "Thank you."

Kneeling by the desk, she admires her colouring and the drawing she had made on the blank page.

"Is that your mum?"

"Yes."

"You're a very good artist."

Rosy giggles, pleased at the compliment.  Despite all the progress that she made getting to know this child, she doesn't chance patting her back.

Switching to serious for the moment, "Rosy, later on, you will be talking to another person in an interview room downstairs.  They will be a doctor, and they will ask you some questions about your home and your mum and dad.  There's no need to be afraid."

Rosy hugs Cheer Bear rather tightly, "Will they be nice?"

"Yes, they will."

Rosy continues to doodle on the page as she talks, "I don't like the doctor's.  I had to go for an in..."

She wrinkles her nose as she tries to pronounce the word 'injection'.

"It hurt lots."

"I know, honey.  Injections do hurt, but they will make your body good and strong to fight off sickness."

Rosy nods, "That's what my mummy says."

A pause.

"Can I bring Cheer Bear too?"

"Of course you can.  Now, how about we do your hair nice for the doctor?"

"Okay."

Taking out the hairbrush, she gently brushes Rosy's hair, working from the ends and up the entire length as carefully as she can.

"Sorry if I pull any knots.  Your hair is so lovely and long."

Rosy nods, her head bobbing so she halts the brushing so she does not yank the poor child, "Like Rapunzel, but it doesn't glow when I sing a song like in the movie."

She chuckles, recalling the film as well, having watched it with her godchildren before.

She gently sings to Rosy, "Flower, gleam and glow... let your power shine.."

Rosy looks up attentively at her, and then expectantly at her hair before looking crestfallen, "No glowing."

"But it's still so nice and shiny."

Rosy smiles a toothy smile.

She parts Rosy's hair in two, and fashions two long braids. "There we are.  So pretty."

Rosy plays with them almost like skipping ropes, giggling happily.

"Can I brush your hair too?"

"Of course you can."

She turns with her back to Rosy after handing her the hairbrush and closes her eyes, prepared for some tugging, but Rosy is very careful as she was.

"Mummy let me brush her hair too.  I want to be a hairdresser.  Or a ballerina.  Or a vet."

She lets Rosy talk away, and compliments her on a job well done with her hair.

"Would you like a spin on my chair?"

"Yes!"

She sits her back down and takes hold of the chair.

"Now let me know if you get dizzy.  Hold on tight!  Here we go!"

She gives the chair a gentle push and it rotates around and around, Rosy cheering.

"Spin faster! Whee!"

She obliges, grinning as Rosy squeals with delight.

After a minute, she gently halts the spinning and kneels down in front of her.

"Are you alright?"

She gently touches her forehead as Rosy grins with bright eyes.

"Yes. The room's dizzy looking, but it was fun!"

Anthea smiles more.

"Good. Work can be lots of fun too."

Rosy talks to Cheer Bear about the fun spin, just as her mobile beeps with a text that informed her that the psychologist had arrived.

While she hoped that Rosy would be able to shed some light on this matter, she prayed that this would not traumatise her further with the interview experience of being in a room with a stranger.

There was enough hate and selfishness in the world without one man dragging his innocent daughter into this mess.

'And yet, here we are...' she thinks sadly as Rosy reaches forward and takes hold of her hair in one hand, and her braid in the other, looking between them with wide, bright eyes.

 

Thirty minutes later...

Sitting in an adjoining observation room, Anthea watches Rosy and the psychologist, Dr. Anne Winters, talking together.

Rosy was drawing a picture, it having been established that she preferred to draw her answers to questions and it helped her feel safe, and asking Dr. Winters to hold Cheer Bear because he was still dizzy.

The doctor inquired pleasantly, "Why is he dizzy?"

"We went spinning in a chair.  In the nice lady's office.  Anth... Anth... Anthea."

Rosy trips over the name and she dips her head to hide a smile from the agent beside her.

Dr. Winters smiles, "That sounded like fun."

She looks at the drawings as Rosy moves on after finishing with each of them.

"Is that your daddy?"

"Yes."

Rosy does not look up, focused on drawing a large daisy.

The drawing is of a man in black clothes, with dark eyes and a long shadow.  The doctor does not comment, but only tilts the drawing towards the viewing mirror so that Anthea can see it as well.

Rosy draws another picture of a cat, of Cheer Bear and Bunny Gruff holding hands and another of her mother.

"That's a very good drawing, indeed."

Alison's likeness was captured in an innocent fashion, with long dark hair and olive skin, but her arms were covered in white, that would almost look like bandages.

All the while, the doctor begins to ask questions about Rosy's parents and Rosy's answers are fairly consistent: her mother was quite sad all of the time and spent a lot of time in the bathroom or her bedroom.  Her father was rarely in the family home, and when he was there, it was with the promise of arguments and broken things.  There were often evenings when Rosy or Alison would have nothing to eat, or there was broken glass to clean up after another tirade.

Rosy's voice becomes noticeably more quiet when talking about those times.

"She's not covering up for him.  Why do you think that?"

The agent taps his pen on the blank notepad.

Her answer is swift, "I think she's a clever girl, and has a good, bright mind.  She has seen a lot but has managed to stay quiet about it.  If he tried to manipulate her previously, tried to draw her into his world to hide things, it clearly hasn't worked.  She's her mother's daughter, and that must drive him insane..."

She looks down at her phone to hide any disgust in her voice, reading the latest message from an operative monitoring the hospital where Alison had been brought.   

The most interesting answer came when Dr. Winters asked if her father had ever acted odd when he was at home.

This would be the most telling piece of evidence Rosy could offer towards her father's illegal activities.

Rosy's expression became quite solemn, "Daddy came home sometimes with a big black plastic bag.  I saw him one time in Mummy's room, putting it in the ceiling.  I was thirsty and wanted apple juice.  He was cross when he saw me there.  He asked me not to say anything to Mummy.  He called it his secret place.  He told me not to climb up to the ceiling, and not to tell anyone."

Her lower lip trembles, "Will I be in trouble?"

"No, Rosy.  You won't be in trouble."

"Mummy wouldn't let me in the bathroom this morning.  I called her and called her.  She didn't open the door.  I was scared and Cheer Bear and Bunny Gruff too.  I wanted my ,mummy..."

Rosy rubs her eyes, sniffling.  Dr. Winters offers the girl a tissue, coming around the table to put an arm around her.

"Is... is Anthea here?" 

Dr. Winters nods, "She is in another room.  Would you like her to come in with us?"

"Yes, please."

The agent looks to Anthea, and she presses her knuckles to her lower lip, silent.

"The kid's asking for you."

"I heard."

It's no more than a whisper.

It had happened.  The bond had been made.  It was a relief, but also the beginnings of a burden.

The feeling of being relied upon, the implicit trust, with all the appearances of a mother or a guardian.  Could she bear to part with it when all this was done?

Putting that thought from her mind, she leaves the room and goes in next door, where she's greeted by Rosy once more, who is glad to see her.

"Good news, Rosy.  I received a message from the hospital, and we can go see your mum whenever you want.  She's still quite poorly, but she will get much better soon."

Rosy nods enthusiastically. "Please, please, please!"

She has a brief conversation with Dr. Winters, asking her to forward on any telling details of Rosy's answers about her father to the lead investigator on the case, until Rosy is impatiently tugging her hand and asking her to go. "Let's go, and Cheer Bear too!" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 'bring a child to work' day for this chapter. 
> 
> As always with these serious settings, it's interesting to see how a child would react or fit into such places. I always remember visiting my mum and dad's offices when I was young and feeling in awe of the cabinets and desks, but I am a bit of a nerd, so there's that.
> 
> I hope you are all enjoying this story. It's really lovely to step back into Anthea's shoes again and to remember just how much I loved writing her. Please leave any comments or concrit below and thank you for reading. <3<3<3


	4. What's Lost Can Be Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reuniting Rosy with her mother at the hospital proves to be more melancholy than happy. But there is another storm brewing and heading straight for them.

In the private room in Charing Cross hospital, Alison lies in the bed, the monitors beeping constantly, her chest rising and falling slowly.  Her condition is stable, but she had not regained consciousness since her arrival that morning. 

The doctor was hopeful that she would wake within a few hours once the blood transfusion had taken hold.  She had lost a great deal of blood and had been underweight when she was admitted so her strength had been diminished, but that she was still in with a fighting chance.

Rosy lies beside her in the bed, hugging her waist. "Mummy... wake up... please wake up, mummy."

Having been observing quietly from beside the window, Anthea walks over and gently touches Rosy's shoulder, "She's just sleeping, honey.  She needs to rest."

Rosy snuffles quietly, pushing her face into her mother's chest.  Alison's eyelids move imperceptibly, but she still does not wake. 

She rests her hand on Rosy's shoulder, "Come on, let's have a read of your books.  The nurses will take good care of her."

Rosy lifts her head and the look of sorrow in her eyes is heartbreaking, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.

After a moment, she reaches forward for Anthea, sniffing quietly.  She lifts Rosy into her arms, beginning a small dance around the room and rocking her similar to when her god-niece would start fussing before a nap.

Rosy holds on around her neck, her breathing becoming more steady.

"You're my friend, Anthea."

"You're my friend too, Rosy."

"Will my mummy be okay?"

"I really hope so.  We will keep good thoughts in our hearts, okay?"

Rosy lifts her head to look at her, and there is the faintest trace of a smile despite her tears.

After gently drying her eyes, Anthea takes the chair beside the bed and sitting Rosy on her knee, reaches down for the pink backpack, having a brief search through before opening the first book entitled 'Guess How Much I Love You', with two rabbits on the cover, reading the story in a quiet voice and giving Rosy plenty of time to look at the illustrations.

Sure enough, Rosy starts to nod off, her head slowly dropping to her shoulder.

She says the final line of the last page in a soft whisper, setting the book aside and allowing herself to hug Rosy that bit closer, while praying for her mother to waken soon.

While there were plenty of tasks to take care of back in the office unrelated to this present case, she chooses to stay at the hospital with Rosy and Alison, both for procedural reasons in case Alison woke up and could tell her what had happened that morning, and also for Rosy's sake.

She was not going to permit the bond be broken at this crucial stage.

So she stays, playing games with Cheer Bear and Bunny Gruff, reading Rosy her books, regaling her with stories about a clever detective who lived in Baker Street, a brave detective inspector in Scotland Yard and a compassionate morgue attendant in St. Bart's hospital. 

All the while, Rosy would listen with wide eyes full of wonder.

As the time went on, Rosy became more sleepy, and she does not waste time in giving her a snack of a granola fruit and nut, brushing her hair and tucking her up beside her mother when she slept.

At one stage, she finds herself briefly tracing her cheek with a fingertip, brushing her hair back before tucking the covers in around her.

As they slept side by side, Rosy's hand finds her way to clasp her mother's hand in a hold that was strong and true.

Anthea watches as Rosy's fingers squeeze in a fraction and almost in a poetic gesture, Alison squeezes back.  She takes in a slow breath and lets it out to counteract any impulse to shed any tears of joy, even while she was alone here.

She still felt that relief very deep down.

 

_Three hours later..._

"And you're sure that they have no recollection of seeing him these past 12 hours?  Alright.  We can chase the rest of his associates down in the next few hours.  Thanks, Dean.  Keep me informed over the next few hours when you can.  Alison is still stable and resting up, so we have a lead on Williams that is breathing.  Tell the Bravo squad to remain on standby in case he decides to come out into the open to make a last stand.  I should be back later this evening.  I will hold on any order until we get a full brief of the situation from surveillance."

The call, while important, had taken much longer than she thought: at least half an hour and she silently curses hospital policy for forcing phone users out into the cold.

The update had been substantial though, and surveillance was making good steady progress on tracking Troy Williams with contacting his fellow drug-dealers and keeping all trackers and CCTV cameras monitored.

All of his usual haunts were not turning up anything by way of fresh sightings, but there was a city wide alert and they were confident that he would be found.

While a part of her itched to return to the surveillance hub to survey the screens herself, she knew that her place was here with Rosy for the time being.

On the way back inside, she stops by the shop on the ground floor for a bottle of apple juice and a cup of coffee.

She hums to herself on the way back to Alison's room, hoping to take Rosy for a walk in the park for fresh air.  Maybe she would like to feed the ducks for a little while and have an ice-cream as a treat. That would be a nice story to tell her mother when she woke up.

'You're getting used to this looking after business, Anthy...'

After walking down the corridor and reaching the room, the door stands slightly ajar and there are no staff at the nurse's station.  A telephone rings out and echoes in the empty space.

She frowns, remembering that she closed it firmly behind her before she left to give them some privacy.  Perhaps one of the nurses had forgotten to shut it fully.

She had left Rosy asleep by her mother's side farthest from the door while she took the call, tucked in under a spare bedsheet.

The protectiveness was only growing as time went on.

She gently calls out her name as she pushes in the door, creeping in and setting the coffee and apple juice down on the bedside locker, not wanting to wake her suddenly.

Alison sleeps on, almost serene.  Maybe the presence of her child would help her to heal.  It was a sentimental thought, but if it helped her bear down and find hope in this situation, then it would suit her.

At first glance, she does not see the telltale sign of a child sleeping beside her, either on top or under the bedsheets.

Tiptoeing round the bed, expecting to see Rosy sitting in the chair or even hiding under the bed again, in a space of several seconds as she takes in the empty room with slowly mounting horror, all the breath leaves her body in a sharp exhale.

Rosy was gone.

Her voice is a rising scream, sharp and loud, her throat feeling raw, "No... no, oh my God, no... /no/! No!!"

She turns about on unsteady legs, looking about the room for any sign of Rosy, desperately checking in the small wardrobe, the adjoining bathroom and under the bed again, vision swimming with tears, almost on the verge of collapsing.

The child had vanished.  

"Rosy!  Rosy, where are you?  Rosy!!"

The panic is white hot and overwhelming, all of her nerves screaming as she fists her hands in her hair, tugging on the strands in a fit of desperation.

She had left her all alone without any protection and she had been taken.  How could she have been so stupid?  How could she have let this happen?

Soon enough, her eyes fall on the fluffy pink bear lying behind the door, the only sign that a child had been there at all.

Gathering it up in her arms, she presses her nose into the fur as hot tears spill down her cheeks, her sobs painful and shuddering.

"Rosy..."

It only takes a bare moment of self loathing before her instinct kicks into high gear.  She had to find her...

The door of the hospital room bursts open and she is running, running, running to the nurses's station where a woman with a long braid and brightly coloured scrubs has returned and gives her a look of abject confusion at the sight of a woman in a dark suit holding a fluffy pink bear coming towards her.

"Contact your supervisor and lock this hospital down, immediately.  We have a child who has been abducted from this floor and I need to find them, right now."

The woman stares at her, aghast.  "Are you out of your mind? This is a hospital, this isn't some..."

She slams her fist on the counter top, cutting her off immediately, her entire body shaking with fury. "I am an official with Her Majesty's Government, I am seconded to MI5, do you want to examine my credentials or we can take it up with the relevant authorities?  I am telling you that we need to lock it down.  /Now/!"

She had to find her.  She had to find Rosy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger galore! 
> 
> When I came to this part of the story first time round, it was always with trepidation because the abduction of a child is not an easy thing to write about, but I hope there was enough realism that it came across just right.
> 
> As always thank you for reading! <3<3<3


	5. Going on the Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Rosy having vanished from her mother's side and the hospital, she calls on her skills as a surveillance operative to piece together the crucial moments when she was taken from her mother's room while trying to maintain a professional approach, which proves difficult after forming a tentative bond with the young girl.

The next hour passes in a blur as the area is cordoned off all along the floor where Alison's room is and statements taken from hospital staff on duty on all floors that morning leading right up to when Anthea took that crucial phone call.

After a brief forensic sweep, Alison is moved to another room further down the hall in case an attempt is made on her life.  She had to think of every outcome when it came to this case.  She had already made one horrific error that had put an innocent life in danger.

She is feeling extremely tense and on edge, her shoulders set and barking orders at people in a voice that is laden with authority.  She was not certain if her mother would be either concerned or proud.

It is only when she and her team are granted access to the closed circuit television room can she breathe more easily.

She watches the screen intently, trying to glimpse any sign of Rosy or have any clue as to identifying the person who may have taken her.

Speaking aloud to the team as the tapes are reviewed, "She would not have gone with a stranger.  Her mother taught her not to talk to strangers and she would have been too scared..."

_'You were a stranger once, and yet...'_

She shakes the errant thought away, looking towards a screen on the upper right corner with the time stamp marked at five minutes after she stepped from the hospital room, looking down at her phone in typical fashion.

The tense coil of guilt tightens even more for leaving Rosy alone.

Her eyes flick to another screen as the film is put forward ten more minutes, "Wait... pause it there..."

The technician obliges.  The static image shows Rosy holding the hand of a young blonde nurse in mid step on the children's' ward.

"What was that nurse doing with her?  Tag her description and track her movements from this time forward.  She could still be in the hospital and could have more solid information for us."  

Several seconds pass, as they watch the nurse lead Rosy down several corridors towards a deserted hallway, where a tall man emerges from a darkened room.

The face was unmistakable, the stance towering and intimidating.

A collective gasp and she almost takes a step back away from the monitors.

It was Rosy's father, Troy Williams, the target they had been searching for all this time.

Her voice laden which shock and cold fury, "How the hell did he get in there?"

An agent speaks up, "Stolen pass?  Or he may have said he was a family member here to visit his wife."

"A likely story." There is no humour in her voice.

Williams kneels down and opens his arms to his daughter, but the girl does not move.  Even in the grainy picture, his face is like thunder as he reaches for her arm.  The nurse almost collapses as he pulls out a knife and holds it by her neck, pushing her up against a wall and taking hold of her jaw roughly.

"Christ... he must have threatened her beforehand.  That must be why she brought him Rosy."

He exchanges harsh words with the cowering girl before striding away with Rosy in tow, and the nurse slides down the wall, quaking with silent sobs.

While she experiences a brief pang of sympathy, her voice is firm as she issues the order, "Find her, please.  I want to know what he said and how he convinced her to bring a young girl to him."

Turning to the rest of the team, "I want agents at all the exits.  I want the outer perimeter searched and a four block surveillance overhaul.  Tell the operatives that Troy Williams is at large with a young child.  Give them Rosy's description as well."

She double checks the last sighting of Rosy in the hall, "She has her backpack, that contains a change of clothes.  He'll want to disappear as soon as possible and make him and Rosy blend into the crowd.  Get these images back to headquarters.  If we catch him, we may be able to save her.  The clock is ticking so we must be at our best.  You have your orders, go and do your duty."

In the foyer of the hospital, she paces as she confers with the base team. "Why would he come here now?  Why come out of hiding at such a risky time?  He knows we are searching for him."

The team command leader speaks up, "Perhaps he wanted to silence his wife for good.  She of all people knew what he was capable of, and what he was concealing.  Fewer witnesses means more chance of a clean skin for him, after all."

She nods, inclined to agree with this, "She is more or less silent now given her unconscious state, but that could be a possibility in case she woke up and decided to co-operate with us.  But the girl I am still confused about.  Why would he want to take her and from such a public place?"

"She's still a witness?  If she told anyone anything, even without knowing he was involved in drugs, it would arouse suspicion anyway.  He swore her to secrecy for a reason."

She acknowledges each suggestion with only a bare nod. "Yes... she loves her father, would protect him if she wanted, if he asked her to.  She was terrified of being in trouble for revealing what he had hidden in the flat.  But after what he's done to her mother... maybe he thought her loyalty had changed.  But she's only four years old..."

She rakes her fingers through her hair, trying to continue to think rationally, "Only fools and children tell the truth. S he would have no reason to lie unless he hurt her too."

"Maybe he just wants anyone who would ever put in him jail to be silent."

"The eternal mindset of the criminal.  No matter what he's done, she is still his daughter.  Flesh and blood must still hold some meaning for him.  He wouldn't harm her unless he was desperate."

"Or desperate for a new life?"

This time a female agent whose grave expression matches her own, "Yes... yes.  Perhaps he's protecting the one good thing left in his life by making a break for it."

Her empathy surges, but then the logical, cold official takes the reins once more. "Be that as it may... he is a wanted criminal, with countless indictments out on him.  He does not deserve to drag an innocent life into this.  A man like that does not simply walk away from a life of crime.  If he wanted her safe... he should have left her stay here with..."

She very nearly said 'me', but finishes, "Stay here with her mother or even with social workers if he doesn't want her mother with her.  So I am treating this as child abduction by a parent, and we are to find them before his luck runs out."

The team nod at her and she excuses herself to walk outside to get some fresh air.  Her vision had been swimming and her head pounding with a stress migraine, so rather than appear fatigued in front of the agents, she stands outside the hospital, hands on her hips and taking three deep breaths, calling on her meditation to steady herself.

So consumed with hate and vitriol towards Williams, she realises her judgment is soon in danger of being clouded, but her perception was still razor sharp.

They had to find Rosy, and fast.

 

The next half hour is an agonising wait, and a part of her desperately wants to be in the surveillance room back at the office, scanning every camera feed that she could to glimpse any sighting or Troy or Rosy or be out on the busy streets searching.

There were plainclothes agents posted at Piccadilly station, Euston, Charing Cross and King's Cross in case he decided to take a train out of the city.

Their resources were stretched thin but there were cameras and human eyes at most of the prominent locations within walking distance of the hospital.  A man with a child was not a rare sight, unfortunately, but a wanted criminal with a kidnapped child with several warrants to his name would hopefully stand out that bit more, as well as the distinctive backpack Rosy had when leaving the hospital.

The nurse who had brought Rosy to her father had been in great shock, and could not stop crying or saying that she was sorry.  She just about kept her patience when asking her questions, but she got most of the answers she needed: a man had emerged from one of the empty hospital rooms on the upper floor and cornered her on the way back to Allison's room.  He had a knife to her throat and demanded that she bring the child or he would silence her forever.

She had not wanted to do it, but he was serious about the threat and extremely frightening. He had not offered her money or drugs, only that he would spare her.

All Anthea could do was put an arm around the younger woman's shoulders and console her.  She would speak to the head staff and the hospital dean to try to make sure that she didn't suffer disciplinary action following the investigation.  It was not every day that a nurse was threatened by a known criminal.

The alerts come in quick and fast, her fingers typing on her BlackBerry keyboard rapidly and it's the only action keeping her tethered to the earth.  Fear for Rosy's safety, guilt for leaving her alone, cold-blooded anger at the man who took her.

Her phone rings and she answers immediately, "What do you have?"

A surveillance technician delivers an update, "He used an ATM at Embankment station twenty minutes ago, we pinged him leaving and also at the ATM camera.  He matches his photo, hasn't made alterations to himself..."

She hums in affirmation, "He hasn't had time to disguise himself.  He's doing this completely on the fly.  Any sign of the child?"

"Still trailing along after him from the visuals we have at Embankment, he's practically dragging her alongside."

Her heart lurches.

"Keep eyes on him and any sign of him laying a hand on that girl, you have permission to engage, but not a moment before.  He is armed with a knife, that we know of, and the safety of the general public is paramount, as well as that of the child.  We are to bring him in alive and neither unharmed."

As she hangs up, the urge to throw her phone is overwhelming.  Knowing it was only a matter of time before Troy lost his temper and hurt his daughter, she puts out a general alert to all agents on the ground to tail the target without arousing suspicion, and as soon as he was in a more secluded area, to send his location to her without delay.

If a group of people swarmed on Troy, there was no telling what his reaction would be.

There was only one approach to take at this stage: she would have to meet him face to face, and hopefully convince him to let the girl go.  It was a desperate gamble but at least there could be certainty.

Perhaps she could use a time-honoured trick that was employed on many nights of trailing would-be informants.  The ringing phone box had been a favourite tactic of her employer, Mycroft Holmes, for many years, ever since she had joined the service, as well as the rotating security camera that demonstrated that he was in control of the situation and was watching the intended target without fail.

Maybe if they lured him to a safer area where they had better optics and control of the surroundings and she was able to negotiate with him calmly, then it may end up in their favour.  

She makes several phone calls, gathers a few agents and strides out of the hospital to put this plan into action.  Outwardly, she was calm and composed, but inside, she was trembling like a leaf caught up in a terrible gust of wind.

She had to do this, for Rosy's sake.


	6. One Last Lifeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Resorting to classic measures employed by Mycroft Holmes when tracking persons of interest to the British government, Anthea seeks to make direct phone contact with Rosy's father, Troy Williams.
> 
> Will he surrender and give up his daughter? Or will Anthea be playing a dangerous game with a man who has only one thing left to lose?
> 
> Brief mention of suicide and some abrasive words towards a young child, so please take care if these are triggers.

With several agents prepared to move along with the live tracking of Troy and Rosy's route by numerous surveillance technicians, she sat in a van just a few streets away from the MI5 headquarters with her team from the morning surrounding her, the younger agent being notably quiet now that matters had become more serious.

The updates were coming in rapidly and what with time not being on their side, using her superior's authorization and the liveline connection to the public phone box directory, she began the process of calling each phone box that Troy passed by to get his attention, grateful for Rosy slowing his pace.

The first three times, he paid them no mind, but at the fourth phone box, he stares quite intently and does a full turn, before he pushes in the door quite clumsily after bending down to Rosy, and by his demeanour, was telling her in no uncertain terms to stay quiet.

As he picks up the phone, the sound of his voice is smooth, tinged with resentment, "Hello?"

A long pause.

"Hello, Mr. Williams."

Her civil greeting is not returned, "Who the fuck is this and why are you ringing bloody phone boxes everywhere I walk?"

Employing her own calm tone of voice, she says quite simply, echoing Mr. Holmes when he would play this game with many persons of interest over the years, "There is a security camera to your right at the top corner of the building opposite.  Do you see it?"

The team watched in silence as he turns his head and looks through the glass panelling of the phone box, and just as his eyes fall on the camera, she quietly instructs, "Turn it to the right, so it's looking straight at him, and zoom into focus."

As soon as that camera has moved into position, the reaction on the other end of the line is not exactly impressed, "Nice trick."

"It creates the right effect. I could do more with the other cameras surrounding you and swivelling any way I see fit, but I think that we have more pressing matters to deal with.  Now, it's time we had a talk about your recent activities and be aware that you are being watched and monitored."

"Some would call that an invasion of privacy."

"Some would call what you've been doing recently evading the law."

Williams places his hand against the side of the phone box and leans against it, "Who the hell is this?  You some government lackey playing with ordinary civilians?"

"My credentials are none of your concern, but you'll be happy to know that I know a great deal about you, Mr. Williams and none of it is ordinary."

Williams chuckles darkly, and his voice sounds more like a whisper, his mouth more than likely centimeters from the receiver, "You sound like a right charmer, sweetheart.  Ever consider working at a sex line?  You'd be perfect with that voice of yours."

No one in the van even chuckled or even cracked a smile.  That is when she knew that she had their respect.

With her eyes flitting back between his face and the figure of Rosy, she continues, "You hold me in such high esteem.  A shame that compliment was not paid to Allison."

Now his voice takes on more of an edge, "She cut her own wrists.  I didn't put the knife in her hand."

"And yet there are terrible tales of arguments and beatings that would push anyone to the brink."

His voice becomes sharp, "Did the brat tell you that?"

A pause.

"I thought so.  Children make things up for attention."

"And your attention is so badly wanted, isn't it?"

A dull thump on the other end of the line, more than likely his fist making contact with the side wall of the phone box, impatience leaking into his voice, "Listen lady, you're wasting my time here, so how about we cut to the chase?"

She glances at Dean, who nods a few times, and she proceeds, still remaining cautious, "Very well.  You have a young child with you, presumably your daughter."

"You know she's my daughter otherwise you wouldn't be so coy with me, sweetheart."

She allows herself a brief smile, "I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt.  Besides, she patently means a great deal to you if you go around threatening nurses in their places of work just to be able to abduct her."

A brief laugh, before he sucks in a short breath, and the smirk is evident in his voice, "Oh... I know who you are.  You're the lady she keeps blathering on about.  The lady with the long hair with the spinning office chair who smells like vanilla..."

Shutting her eyes, she bites her tongue, "And what if I am?"

He whispers sardonically, "You should be the one convicted of kidnapping.  You took my kid from my flat without a care in the world and had to bring her to see that tramp of a mother who couldn't even kill herself properly.  You've messed her up big time, putting stupid ideas in her head and now she's scared of me."

She never could stand the feeling of being wrong, but she keeps her cool, "She already was petrified of you.  Start taking responsibility for what you've done."

"Oh, I live with it everyday.  I don't need some civil servant bitch telling me how to raise my kid."

Just as she is about to accuse him of storing drugs in the apartment, she remembers that it was a secret that Rosy told her, that had made her very afraid of her father, and bears down as best she can.

"If you will not listen to me, then listen to reason.  You are a criminal on the run and it is not a safe environment for a child.  She needs to be somewhere safe..."

He cuts her off immediately, "She's safe with me.  I'm the only thing she has left thanks to that head case of a mother.  She needs me."

There is a rustle as he jostles with the receiver and she watches as he lifts Rosy up into his arms and puts the receiver between them, "Go on, tell the nice lady that you want to stay with your daddy.  Go on, sweetheart."

It sounded more like an order than a request from a father.

A soft, plaintive voice comes over the phone and she covers her mouth to stifle a sob, "I want to stay with my daddy."

One of the agents listening in on the call thumps his fist against the side of the van, muttering under his breath, "Of course she'd say that, you bastard..."

Keeping herself steady, she says very softly, "Hello, Rosy.  This is Anthea."

"Hi."

She keeps her voice light, "How are you, poppet?"

Rosy replies politely, "Fine, thank you.  Daddy took me for a walk, but I'm getting hungry and Bunny Gruff is scared.  I lost Cheer Bear and they were best friends... I hope he isn't lost..."

There is a crack in her voice and Anthea takes a deep breath, "Okay, Rosy.  I'll talk to your daddy and we'll get you something to eat.  I have Cheer Bear safe with me, okay?"

A long pause.

"Am I in trouble, Anthea?"

Her voice is soft, "No, no, darling.  You're not in trouble.  We just have some things to talk about, me and your daddy."

"Is mummy dead?"

"No, she's sleeping in hospital, still."

A pause.

"Is my daddy in trouble?"

Before she can answer, Troy has put her back down beside him, saying in a tight voice, "Don't ask silly questions, just stand there and be a good girl."

Her breath leaves her in a rush, "Good instincts.  She worships you and doesn't want you hurt.  I hope you realise that."

She sits up that bit straighter as his voice returns, brittle and harsh, "And how would the fuck you know that?  You've known her a few hours and you're telling me what's in her head?"

"She misses you.  Shame you couldn't make changes and be there for her like you should."

Even as the words leave her mouth, she realises the misstep and internally curses herself as he fires back, "Shut the fuck up..."

A glance to her companions, sensing that she was losing him, and it would only be a matter of time before he hung up, so she makes a careful suggestion, "How about we do a deal?"

A long pause with only his breathing on the other end before he replies sullenly, "Go on..."

"Let's you and I meet.  No more hiding behind cameras, no more smoke and mirrors.  Not in an office or somewhere crowded.  Somewhere you feel secure and you show me proof that she is unharmed."

He huffs a laugh, "I'm not letting her go with any of you lot.  She stays with me.  I'm all she has left."

While silently praying for Allison to recover her strength, she keeps up the facade of believing him, "Then prove to me that you are able to look out for her welfare.  I propose we meet and discuss this calmly, face to face.  No tricks.  I will come unarmed, but my team will be surrounding us, so no tricks from you either."

William's chuckle is forced and humourless, "You drive a hard bargain, lady.  But if it's enough to get you off my back, then fine.  How about back where it all started?"

"Name the location."

"The courtyard green area of the tenement where you broke down my door.  Meet me there in half an hour.  Just you, princess.  Any funny moves and I'm gone."

"I can't say fairer that that."

As he speaks next, there is venom brimming in every word, "If you're late, even one second, then you've lost your chance to talk for good and any chance to get my kid from me."

Remembering that Rosy was hungry and that the temperature was cold, she says diplomatically, "Mr. Williams... if your daughter appears to be shivering or hungry, you may want to find somewhere to go for lunch before we meet.  I'll happily wait."

"Fine... two hours, then.  Don't be late."

Just before he can hang up, and just as she hears him talking harshly to Rosy, she says quite smoothly, "She likes apple juice, just so you know."

The line cuts out abruptly as he half tumbles out of the phone box, taking Rosy's hand and storming up the street, disappearing from the camera view for now.

She puts the receiver down far more gently than she wanted, sharing a look with Dean who had just wiped his eyes.

"That poor kid..."

No one else says a word who was present at the dawn raid.  They did not dare want to invoke her ire.

"Are we still tracking them?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She runs her hands down her face, once again refocusing her energy, "We need to get her away from him before he disappears forever.  He evaded us for long enough and remained in the shadows.  If he wants to disappear, then he will, regardless of him agreeing to meet me.  Keep all the eyes we have on him until the meeting time and let me know if he starts to move away from the meeting point area when the time is close."

As she steps out of the van into the cold London air, her compatriot whispers, "Are you sure this is wise?  Meeting this guy face to face?  He doesn't seem to want to listen to reason."

Wisely, he did not ask her in front of the entire team, so she says quietly, "It's the best shot we have while he is still calm and not on the verge of panicking or making a break for it.  Rosy is definitely a spanner in the works, slowing him down, making him stop for food or a rest.  I honestly doubt that he was planning to abduct her.  Something must have happened in the meantime that convinced him to not leave without her..."

Dean leans back against the side of the van, gazing up at the skyline and the clouds up above, "I don't have kids, but I have a nephew and I know I'd meet any demands just to make someone stop hurting them."

Anthea nods, thinking of her own god-children, of the bone-deep fear of any danger meeting them or Rosy, "We have to try, Dean.  And I want to assure you that if anything happens, to the team, to Rosy or if he gets away out of the city, that it's down to me.  Only me.  I will take the fall if we fail."

"That's not fair..."

She looks up at him into those gentle eyes, despite him being a foot taller than her, she does not back down, "I'm giving the order, I am leading us, it's only right.  My masters are not your masters and you have a long career ahead of you, Dean."

The muscle in his jaw twitches, "I wouldn't be able to look myself in the mirror if I abandoned you, Anthy. If you're going down, then so am I."

"You're a good man, Dean.  Possibly too good for this line of work."

"Likewise, ma'am."

And with that brief moment of levity concluded, the preparations began for what would be the most charged meeting she had ever participated in, where the stakes were incredibly high and there was no room for mistakes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shamelessly borrowing from the BBC Sherlock episode 'A Study in Pink' for this one with the moving cameras and the ringing phone boxes following John Watson. I always wondered how many times they had done that before, and how many people may have been unnerved by a ringing phone pursuing them. lol
> 
> It always fascinated me that Mycroft could control such things with surveillance and was just a velvet voice on the phone, followed by Anthea in the car being enigmatic and focused on her BlackBerry. I always pictured her being a successor to Mycroft and being a steely presence, so I really enjoyed writing this scenario.
> 
> Thank you to anyone who has read or commented on this fic, especially for a minor character like Anthea being centre stage.


	7. A Desperate Measure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final showdown with Troy Williams is imminent, the meeting point and time set, but is she ready to face him?
> 
> With Rosy's future hanging in the balance, her negotiating skills matter now more than ever.
> 
> Some physical violence and verbal abuse, and a child being used as a bargaining tool, so take care for triggers.

Rubbing her hands together briskly to bring warmth back into her fingers, she darts a look around her and behind her towards the entrance to the complex, concerned about missing them should Williams choose to bolt rather than face her.

It was a slim chance that she had to win him over, but she knew that the child's safety had to come first. 

She had changed back into a tactical suit, a heavy black jacket over black trousers, hair pulled back into a ponytail, her BlackBerry safe in the unit's van. 

Even now her hands felt empty without her device to type on and the nerves were beginning to show now that she had nothing to occupy herself with, even reading surveillance updates or checking in with matters at work.

The appointed time arrived and as she glances over her right shoulder in yet another hyper-vigilant sweep of the area, Troy Williams strides into view, footsteps slow, carrying his daughter who is hiding her face in his shoulder, her pink jacket hood pulled up over her head.

She turns to face them very slowly, looking to each of the surrounding apartment blocks, where agents are posted on the outer balconies, ducked down beneath ledges out of sight, poised and quiet.

Two snipers are posted on the roofs either side of her, offering a clear view and sight of the target if she ordered them to take a shot.

The stage was set and she knew this was her very last chance of rescuing Rosy.

Standing very still, barely allowing her chest to rise and fall even as she breathed, she observes Williams as he murmurs to his daughter and puts her down beside him.  The child hugs her father's right leg, swaying slightly on her feet.

_She must be exhausted..._

She calls out across the square in a calm, measured voice, "Very nice to meet you face to face, Mr. Williams."

All he responds with is a curt question, "Are you armed?"

Resisting the urge to sigh at his lack of trust, she proceeds to turn in a circle, her hands raised to the level of her head, unbuttoning her coat and showing him that she carried no holster or hidden weapons.

"I am not, but my people are.  One wrong move and you will have a very bad injury.  I just wanted to make that very clear at the outset before you accuse me of being dishonourable."

"Understood."

He attempts to give her a charming smile but she parries back swiftly, "I will ask you the same question, then.  It is only fair we meet on equal standing."

Williams reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pocket knife, following by un-holstering what looked like a .83 caliber pistol, pointedly placing the weapons behind him and walking forward a few more steps. 

He does the turn as well with both arms raised to the level of his head, before he reaches down and pats his daughter's shoulder and they walk forwards together to the centre of the green area, and she meets them there, maintaining a distance of a few feet, just beyond arm's reach of the child.

Her fingers curl and unclench, the urge to grab Rosy and run beginning to show itself, but then came the calm, firm voice of her lead agent's voice in her ear, "Just play it cool.  We have him right where we want him... it will be on your word to take the shot.  You've got this, ma'am."

She takes in a deep breath, bearing down with all she had left, and makes a quiet request, "May I say hello to your daughter?  We have had some time together, and I would like her not to be scared."

Williams considers this for a moment, before shrugging, "Fine.  No skin off my nose.  All you'll get to do is say hello, anyway."

Reaching down beside him, Williams lifts the hood off Rosy's face and when the girl meets her eyes, the smile is genuine but sleepy.

"Hello, Rosy."

"Hi, Miss Anthea."

She kneels down, remaining in the same spot, speaking gently, "Are you okay, sweetheart?"

The child looks up at her father, who has stooped down behind her with his hands on her shoulders, "Go on, tell the nice lady how you are.  Be polite, now."

The girl says in a flat tone of voice, "I'm fine, thank you.  I had some apple juice and a pink cake in the cafe shop..."

She smiles ironically at the minor effort Williams was making to be a father.

A soft chuckle in her ear, "At least he took your advice on something..."

She nods towards Rosy, "That sounds very good."

She stands once again, sparing her knees and returning to a ready, confident stance, "Mr. Williams, there are two ways this can go and neither are very pleasant.  I'm conscious of talking this way in front of the child..."

Williams makes his daughter turn one way to the left and then back to the right in a lazy swaying dance.  The child does not resist, and could very well have been a marionette on frayed strings.

"Say what you want.  It won't make any difference.  I'm just meeting you to put a face to that charming voice on the phone who said such delicious words and get the heat off me."

Choosing to be frank, while still being mindful of the girl, she launches into her opening ambit, "We may as well be honest with each other at this stage, since that is hardly been your style all along.  I don't know what you think is going to happen here or how you think it is going to end, but no one is coming for you.  None of your contacts, fellow drug traffickers or liaisons know where you are.  It's just you here so there are no favours, no boons, no deals to be made.  I am here to negotiate your surrender and to ensure the safety of the child so you have only one more chance to come quietly and to do what's best for your daughter."

A muscle twitches in Williams' jaw, "You don't know a thing about me or my family."

She raises her chin a fraction, knowing that if his temper flared, it would spell disaster, but she had to give him a badly needed reality check, "I know enough from files and what I've seen over the course of this entire day.  You are never there for them.  The flat they live in is filthy with no food or central heating.  Your partner almost passed away, your daughter left frightened and where were you?"

Williams snaps petulantly, "Making money to feed and clothe them!"

"Making money to feed yourself and your habit, more likely."

Williams snarls, "You keep talking that way and I am gone from here."

Shaking her head, she says with courage that she had no clue she even possessed in this moment, "You won't go far.  Not with surveillance and armed agents tailing you.  You won't make it out of this city, even by a whisker.  You are boxed into a corner and your only way out is in handcuffs."

A bark of laughter, "Oh, but I have a minor with me.  What are you going to do about that little wrinkle?"

He squeezes his daughter's shoulders that bit more and she squirms in protest, "That hurts, daddy."

She bites her tongue, just about keeping her protective side at bay, "We are at cross purposes, then."

"Yes, we are.  So I am proposing this.  You let me and my daughter walk away from this place and we call it square."

With that final phrase, he has pulled his daughter behind him, forming an effective shield between her and the girl.

Coldly, she replies, "You know I can't do that.  You have enough blots on your copybook to make the pages turn black.  How can you make a life for her when you're constantly on the run?  Are you going to keep her out of school in the future?  Bring her along to meetings in your criminal underworld?  That's no life for a child."

Williams makes an exaggerated face with his lower lip sticking out, "Oh, my heart bleeds.  You haven't a clue about how to negotiate when you insult the one wanting to do a deal.  Nice talking with you, lady."

Just as he is about to reach down and scoop his daughter into his arms, she sharply calls out, "Wait... !"

Her voice echoes in the wide space of the courtyard.

He stops and Rosy peeks out at her from behind him.

She chances one last throw of the dice, "How about turning informant?  You obviously have contacts, connections and a network of criminals.  How about working for the good guys this time?"

Williams' face crumples in disgust, "I'm not some grass."

She fights the urge to roll her eyes, "Just what a proud person would say.  You'd have stability for your daughter.  A steady income, and protection from us.  We would make sure she and your partner are taken care of.  You'd be doing them and your government a great favour."

He throws out an accusation, spit flying from his mouth, "Until you stab me in the back."

"That's really not our style."

Williams looks at the surrounding buildings, with a hoard of trained snipers and tactical service units on either side.

"Or shoot me in the head, right?"

Not looking away from him, she says quite softly, "No one is making threats here, unless you decide to turn nasty.  I am here to bargain."

"So you either let me walk or I become a grass.  Any idea which one I'm going to pick?"

Rosy covers her ears, clearly not happy with the shouting.

"You know where I stand, Mr. Williams."

"As do you."

"Then we have a problem."

"We do.  So how about this?"

He reaches for Rosy's arm, and quick as a flash, pulls a stiletto blade out from the pocket of her coat and presses it to her cheek.

The scream leaves her throat, "No!"

She immediately steps forward, her hand raised and Williams bares his teeth in a triumphant snarl, "One more step and I'll cut her pretty face."

Rosy starts to cry, "Daddy, stop."

He whispers to her in a syrupy sweet voice, "They gave me no choice, sweetheart.  Daddy has to force their hand or else you and I will never be free to be happy."

The shivering sets in now, though she does her absolute best to keep it out of her voice, "Troy, just put the knife down.  We don't have to do this..."

"Yes, we do.  If I turn myself in, or become a grass, running errands for you pigs, you'll never let me see her.  She'll be as good as gone from me if I agree to be your pet."

She would have scoffed at him playing the 'father dearest' card, but she had to tread carefully, "That's not true.  You think of what is best for her, and this isn't right."

Williams reaches down and pulls his daughter into his arms, holding her on his hip with some difficulty as she struggles to free herself.

"Daddy, please, you're hurting me."

He snaps at her, "Be quiet.  What have I told you about talking out of turn?"

Now she allows her protectiveness to come out in full force, "Leave her alone, right now."

Williams shoots her a look of incredulity, "You telling me how to treat my kid?  You've some nerve, lady.  Look at you, you're as barren as a desert and probably just as dry."

Biting her tongue, she repeats the single order, "Put her down, right now."

"Make me, you pathetic bitch."

"Daddy..."

Rosy's sobs are heartbreaking to hear, and all she can say to Rosy to try and soothe her, despite knowing just how dangerous this entire situation has become, "It's going to be okay, poppet.  It's going to be okay.  Just keep looking at me, okay?  Keep looking at me..."

"Stop talking to her!"

The knife presses harder against her face and the child trails off into a whimper, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Anthea takes the smallest step forward, trying to bridge the divide between her and the pair in front of her, "You don't have to do this.  All of this bluff and threatening, it's not going to help you or her..."

She begins to slowly step forward, her legs shaking but her voice is steady.

Williams throws back at her, "I want her with me.  She's all I have left... I've nothing.  I've no more sway over any of my contacts.  They know I have no teeth anymore.  My prospects are dried up and no one wants to even know me.  So me being a grass is fucking laughable.  I've nothing to give you and I am not letting you take her."

On another day, when she was still new and emotional, she may have believed him.

A shake of her head, "That is bullshit and you know it."

At first, he appears wounded, but then what follows is a slight curve of his lips into a smirk, "I thought it would work on you, being a soft touch and all.  You brushed her hair and played with her toys and all that motherly crap."

Slowly, slowly, inch by inch, she moves closer, with Dean's voice in her ear coaching her, "We still have a good visual, but it won't be a clean shot... she's moving about and he has her in a strategic place."

Murmuring under her breath, "Only on my word... not a moment before..."

"So what's it going to be, Anthea?  Are you going to let a child be cut to pieces?  Or will you have the balls and let the men handle things from now on?"

All she can do is use all of her persuasive communication to break through his tough act, to find a sliver of paternal love left in him, and she calmly requests once more, "Put her down, it's between you and me.  She is an innocent.  You hurting her won't make her love you."

"But she will respect me and know that I have the power.  That I'm not weak or snivelling or a wreck like her mother!  I know what's best!  Me!  No one else!"

She meets Rosy's eyes, the connection from when they first met only this morning sparking anew, "It's going to be okay, Rosy.  Trust me, it's going to be okay."

Williams is breathing quite heavily, and his lips curl in disgust as she makes that ill-advised promise, "You want her?  Fine.  Take the brat... see if I care."

And without a word of warning, he shoves Rosy out of his arms and she pitches forward onto the hard pavement, landing on her front heavily, wailing in pain.

Darting forward, without a care as to her safety, she falls to her knees beside Rosy, putting her arms around her and trying to comfort her while checking her for any injury, "Rosy, it's alright, poppet, it's alright..."

Her slip in observation is a grave error, for there is the click of a hammer that is quite loud, even over the thundering of her pulse in her ears just as Dean's voice says quite urgently, "Anthea... you need to stand up slowly... and stay calm..."

Turning her head slowly, Williams has retrieved his gun that he had conveniently misplaced just within his easy reach and is advancing on her with a sardonic smirk, "You thought you could take my daughter?  You thought you could make her scared of me?  Think again, bitch."

She raises her hands, knowing that it would only be on her word that the snipers would fire.  There had been no pre-arranged hand signal, it would only be on her word.

Now they were in seriously dire straits: given all the crimes Williams was linked to, him being brought in willing and alive was a better outcome, yet here he was brandishing a weapon at her and she may be forced to make a quick decision.

Summoning up all the bravery she has left in reserve, "Troy... put the gun down.  You've done enough damage.  Your chance to even see daylight again is hanging by a thread..."

He shakes his head, spitting the words at her now, "Your little threats aren't cutting it anymore.  How about I shoot you in the head and take my kid away?"

"Even if you killed me right now, the men in the tower blocks will take you down before my body even hits the ground."

Even as she says this, the cold, bone deep fear wracks her body, the thought that she could very well die in an instant, but even as she says this, she steps to one side, effectively a barrier between him and Rosy, "I'd rather put myself in harm's way than let you lay a finger on her again."

Rosy has scrambled to a crawling position, snuffling quiet sobs behind her.

Williams' hand does not even shake and his eyes do not even flicker, "Nice meeting you.  Shame you turned out to be such a weak bitch..."

His finger begins to squeeze the trigger, and the loud shot rings through the courtyard just as it impacts her right in her abdomen.  She is bent double by the force of the shot, and falls heavily to her knees, eyes wide and confused.

All she can do is place her hand on her belly, and as she brings away her fingers, there is the horrific redness of her own blood.

Vision swimming, she falls heavily, slumping onto her side, laying still, breathing quite heavily.

Rosy wails her name, and she hears her scrabble towards her, pushing her shoulder, "Miss Anthea... please... please don't die..."

Meeting Rosy's eyes for the briefest moment, she gives her the slightest wink, before murmuring, "Take him..."

Williams is advancing towards her, cursing his daughter and ordering her to come with him, the slide of the chamber loud and metallic, showing that he was intending to finish her off.

"A shot in that pretty head will settle you, bitch..."

But he does not even take two steps before the snipers open fire and high-powered rounds catch him once in the shoulder and once more in the abdomen. 

The gunfire is cacophonous and frightening, but she remains quite still, managing to take hold of Rosy's hand as she shrieks and covers her ears, ducking down on the ground beside her.

Williams collapses to one knee, blood pouring from his mouth, shuddering to take gasps of precious air as his gun clatters to the ground beside him.

"You... fucking... bitch..."

Falling heavily on his front, he goes still as stone.  

Silence.

With her pulse still thundering in her ears, she listens to Dean's voice gently utter, "He's down.  The girl is right beside you.  We got him, ma'am."

"Acknowledged."

She takes out her earpiece, pushing herself into a half seated position, she gently whispers to Rosy, "Rosy... Rosy, it's over, it's alright..."

Rosy lifts her head, looking at her with childish confusion.

"But... but, he hurt you..."

Smiling beatifically, she reaches down for the hem of her black top, pulling it up to show the makeshift bullet vest with blood bags attached, where the bullet had safely lodged and did her no harm.

"It was all a trick, you see?  I'm alright and so are you."

But before she can even reach for Rosy to give her a long-needed hug, Rosy's eyes widen and her mouth opens and closes, mouthing wordless syllables.

Cold dread sets in as she turns her head to see Williams crawling towards them on his hands and knees, blooding smeared around his chin and his eyes full of hatred.

Anthea makes a loud sound of anguish and fright, reaching for Rosy, gathering her up in her arms and struggling to her feet.

Williams is gargling unintelligible words, reaching for her like a possessed demon.

Overwhelmed with sudden panic, she cannot hear Dean or any of the agents having taken out her earpiece in a moment of misguided error.

She pushes Rosy away from her towards the nearest exit of the courtyard, "Rosy, run!  Run!!"

Just as she is trying to get Rosy to safety, Williams makes a grab for her ankle.

In between gargled breaths, "I'll... fucking... kill you, you whore..."

Anthea gasps, her body locking up and she tries to wrench herself free, kicking out at him but he effectively pins down her other ankle, rendering her immobile as he drags her towards him.

"No!  Stop!  Let go!!  /Let me go!/"

There was no way the snipers had a clean shot with the three people moving about.  Tears streaming from her eyes, she has never been more afraid of a man in her entire life.

Rosy darts to one side, tears still on her face, but rather than run away, seeing Anthea in trouble, she screams, "Daddy, stop!!"

Just as Williams is close to climbing on top of Anthea, hands reaching for her throat as she desperately tries to push him off, his greater weight pressing down on her chest, Rosy dashes towards her father, nimbly climbing on his back, taking hold of the longer hair on his scalp and pulls back hard.

Williams roars, the pain of his injuries flaring as he tries to reach back and get his own daughter off him, making him topple to one side as he groans in agony, half laying on top of his daughter who yelps in sudden pain.

Rolling over onto her side, breathing hard, she gets to her feet, gritting her teeth and swiftly kicks Williams in the face, before reaching down to drag him off Rosy who lays on her back, eyes shut to the world.

She rolls him over onto his front and forces his hands up behind his back as he roars profanities, and as she shakily replaces her earpiece, she says quite loudly, "He's losing blood, get me an ambulance."

In thirty seconds, five agents have made their way down to the courtyard, weapons drawn and they approach her, taking her place in restraining Williams who is weakly struggling but to no avail, blood staining and seeping into the cregs of the path beneath him.

She flicks her head round, seeing Rosy's prone form on the ground.

"No... oh God, /no/..."

She dashes across to Rosy, falling to her knees beside her, touching her face, leaning her ear down to her mouth, hearing a faint breath, checking for a pulse which is still thumping strongly.

She firmly shakes her shoulders, but not too roughly, "Rosy... Rosy, it's Anthea... come on, poppet... I need you to open your eyes."

There is a faint flutter of her eyelids and a tiny whine of pain as the warm chocolate brown eyes open.

Her relief washes over her, lifting Rosy into her arms, she immediately stirs and clings to her neck in a tight hug, "Mommy..."

Not bothering to correct her, all she does is give her the long needed hug, "Sssshhh... ssshhh, poppet... it's over... I've got you..."

In the midst of the chaos, as ambulance sirens wail and agents secure the area, ensuring no civilians happen upon this scene, she sits in the back of the surveillance van, a blanket around her shoulders and another tucked around Rosy, who has discovered her charm bracelet that she always carries with her in her pocket on tactical operations, and as the calm returns, she tells the story of each charm, weaving a personal fairytale that she hopes will forever dispel the trauma she had witnessed today.

One could always dream and hope for better things.  Especially when it came to a child.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I wrote for the BBC Sherlock fandom, and it's like seeing an old friend again, minus the fandom drama that unfortunately permeated Tumblr during the show's final series.
> 
> Little history lesson: many years ago, in the heyday of BBC Sherlock when it had simply exploded in popularity and the fandom was finding its way online, I was part of a vibrant community on Twitter and RPd as 'Anthea', the mysterious lady with the BlackBerry phone and a penchant for misremembering John Watson who appeared in 'A Study in Pink' and 'The Empty Hearse'.
> 
> She was fascinating to me and my fascination developed during the tail end of the Great Hiatus with Series 2 on the horizon and I began to write stories and act out scenes with other talented writers on Twitter, including a wonderful group consisting of a Molly Hooper, a Gregory Lestrade, a Jim Moriarty, an OC named Sarah, several Mycroft Holmes, an Irene Adler and a Sherlock Holmes.
> 
> We wrote many scenes and vignettes together, most of them not related to the show but existed in our own headcanon universe, and it was possibly one of the most fulfilling creative experiences of my life.
> 
> This story was being posted on Twitlonger in chapters but I hit a creative roadblock and never got around to finishing the story on Twitter.
> 
> Recently I found it again and delved back into the world of this enigmatic lady. She is quite different from the show as I developed her character over many years but I hope that she is still compelling. She has elements of my own personality and the broad strokes that were written in the show for her two appearances, so it was a lot of fun to create her backstory and to interact with other RPers.
> 
> If there is enough interest, I will continue this story at a later date. It is fairly much the same as when I wrote it on Twitter but I may make small changes as I go along to come into line with my current style of writing, which is a fun exercise to see how far I have come in fanfic writing.
> 
> This story also takes its title from a film starring Maxine Peake called 'Finding Rosy'. While not exactly the same, the central theme of that film is similar to this story, but no spoilers.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this small offering and I would be happy to continue this in the future.
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


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